


It's Only the Fairy Tale

by sougen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-10-01 17:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sougen/pseuds/sougen
Summary: Faced with a fractured Fódlan, united in name only, Edelgard must balance a fragile peace with her vision of liberating the people from their many tyrannies—including those who slither in the dark.





	1. Old Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> tags to be added as new characters are introduced. i'm also following the japanese script for the most part, so there may be some discrepancies when referencing some support conversations.

When the fires of conquest that raged across Fódlan had settled, and the embers of unsteady peace had begun to simmer and cool into something resembling stability, Edelgard had taken to moments of introspection.

This particular one had been sparked by a petition which had sat on her desk since the morning, hidden by numerous other disputes over territory and land borders and squabbles born from small skirmishes between opportunistic lords—a natural result of the hasty abolishments she’d pushed through before she declared war.

Most of them could be left to her transitional cabinet for now, and she’d organised them thusly: appeals for land reconsideration would be delegated to Count Hevring, requests for extra military detachments to Count Bergliez. Issues of faith and political appointments were too integral to her reforms, issues of foreign policy too sensitive to prejudice, and so Edelgard had spent the day consulting with Ferdinand and Petra until the late hours of the day, wherein they both retired to their separate quarters.

Which left Edelgard alone with the petition. It was the easiest request to grant, and so it was the last.

_Restitution for the Mittelfrank Opera House.  
Dorothea Arnault_

Formal, to be sure. Too formal for Edelgard’s liking, given how long they’d spent waging war at each other’s side, and how they’d spent a year studying together as equals at Garreg Mach before that. Although, upon reflection, she supposed it was like Dorothea to take these things seriously. She was never one for half-measures, and the idea of relying on nepotism no doubt repulsed her as much as it did Edelgard.

The petition ran several pages long, each page bearing a detailed plan for the funding and where it would be spent, what the terms of patronage would be, scheduled events for the foreseeable future, and even contained a stipulation that any profits would be donated to the imperial relief effort.

All in all, they were remarkable suggestions that left Edelgard with a renewed appreciation for both Dorothea’s compassion and her intellect. She was happy to sign off on every recommendation, confident there could be no accusations of potential favouritism or hypocrisy.

Her fingers trailed over Dorothea’s signature, the looping calligraphic grooves imprinted in clear black ink upon the parchment, firm under her calloused fingertips. Despite knowing that anything within her power to grant, Edelgard would grant it without hesitation, she went to such lengths to prove her proposal worthy. Few others had been so meticulous.

Reaching for her quill, she scribbled her own signature and stamped it with an imperial seal. The memory of Dorothea’s threat to write an opera about the war admittedly stalled her hand, but she was proud to say it cost her no more than a second’s hesitation. She made a quick note to deliver it in person tomorrow.

In truth, the starring role aside, she was curious how the war would be portrayed. Dorothea’s specialty lay mostly in romance, from what she remembered of the small performances she and Manuela would put on in the cathedral, and there was precious little of _that_ in the war. A rousing action piece hardly suited their experiences, and the transparency of the propaganda would be as self-defeating as it would be tone-deaf.

A tragic drama, then? It would make sense, since Fódlan had been ravaged by the war, however humane she’d tried to be. Arianrhod still lay in ruins: the past few months had seen very little relief in general, with most of the attention being spent on subduing small insurgencies and maintaining order against opportunistic bandits. Where resources could be spared, they were rationed out to cities rather than isolated fortresses.

She hadn’t thought the rebuilding of Fódlan would be easy, of course; the stench of burning bodies and bloodied rivers dammed by the bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike had chased her for far too long for that, and Dimitri’s last words had settled a heavy weight on her heart.

But, and here a laughing voice sniggered at her naiveté, she had thought—she had hoped—that, when she next lay down her head to meet the sunken eyes of her siblings, when their broken bodies and shattered minds pleaded to know what she’d done with the powers their torture had bought, she would have an answer for them.

Instead, she’d found her nightmares had grown, and the chorus of the dead louder than it had ever been.

Arundel and his band of rats were persistent, skittering about the continent as if to spite her, raising chaos wherever their illness tread. All that she’d suffered, that she’d seen others suffer, the atrocities she’d thrown away her humanity to end, continued unabated, emboldened by Rhea’s defeat and the church’s temporary disbandment.

She shut her eyes, suddenly furious. She knew Hubert and Byleth were doing their best, leading a covert charge to find out as much as possible about their repugnant “allies”, and it would be useless to play their deck early and risk another Arianrhod, perhaps even the future of Fódlan itself falling into their fell clutches.

She knew it was only a matter of time before their complacency revealed a weakness that they were all too ready to exploit, and she would not allow her impatience to jeopardize all they’d worked so hard to achieve. To allow her pride to waste the sacrifices they’d made, to spit on the memories of friends turned enemies.

All of this, and more, she knew—and yet she could only think of her siblings, huddled together in consuming darkness, in empty misery, unable to see nor feel her feeble hands reaching out for them in desperation, having only the passing of death’s shroud to wish for.

While those monsters responsible roamed free under her aegis, what answers did she hope to give?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dorothea/edelgard agenda shall rise
> 
> this fic & all its chapters will be named after mai-hime/mai-otome soundtrack titles bc that's simply who i am as a person, so feel free to go look up the whole soundtrack if you fancy it. and i hope you do.
> 
> fic title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztudxa-MGLI
> 
> chapter title song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP-scQN4rk8


	2. Neverending Crossroad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting all that sappy emotional reunion stuff out of the way so i can get to the GOOD STUFF of doing politics and kicking ass. AGARTHIAN ass. and maybe dorothea and edelgard will hold hands along the way idk
> 
> rushing this out while my internet is active so apologies for any mistakes lmao please don’t hesitate to @ me about them

Enbarr had been one of the very few constants in Edelgard’s life. When she was younger, before she’d been taken away to Faerghus, she used to find it comforting to wander the streets with her uncle, to stare up at the stark, angular shapes of the buildings as they loomed over the bustling sway of crowds in an impressive display of Adrestia’s storied history, silent amidst the chaos of the markets, immutable against the decays of time.

Though she returned years later, feeling very much like the world could never be the same again, those buildings remained as they’d always been: the greying stone bricks interlaid with all shades of reds and oranges; latticed windows hidden between sturdy columns and fronted with elaborate, curving arches upon which geometric patterns were delicately engraved…

Then, above them all, castellated watchtowers reached high, dotting the horizon wherever they pierced the heavens. She’d often climb them as a child, feeling the wet spray of the nearby canals as they carried on the fresh breeze, Adrestia unfurling before her like a promise.

Her uncle’s—Arundel’s—hand upon her shoulder kept her grounded, and despite the power of two Crests slithering in her blood, anchoring her fate to his, the freedom that came each time she beheld the spread of dawn from one of Enbarr’s many towers stayed with her still to this day.

It was with her when Byleth chose to defend her against Rhea in the Holy Tomb, defying their divine heritage. It was with her when Byleth returned after five long years of absence, when Aymr came crashing down on Rhea’s monstrous skull, the impact ringing through the burning rubble of Fhirdiad’s ruins, and when she heard the triumphant percussion of the first beat of Byleth’s heart.

It was with her now, as well, even when the sweat and the tears and the panic of another nightmare clings to her bare skin and the encroaching blackness of her palace room hides all but her doubt. It was with her, always, however distant it might seem.

*-*

Frustratingly, Edelgard had awoken too early to meet Dorothea, and so, too agitated to go back to sleep, she’d instead taken a seat at the high perch of her bedroom window to gaze out at the city below.

It was dark enough that the torches were lit, twinkling lights that floated amidst the flood beneath her in small, irregular constellations. Every now and then, a torch would suddenly fade out, its fuel spent, and the illusion of whatever lines she’d drawn between them faded with it.

Feeling suddenly idle, she fetched some of the stray documents that lay discarded on the floor from where they’d slipped from her hand after she’d been dragged into slumber. They were nothing of major consequence: summaries of yesterday’s agenda, a brief layout of today’s, and private notes regarding the most troublesome regions over the past few months.

She’d memorised most of them already, and, in truth, she’d been able to think of little else since the adrenaline of Rhea’s death wore off. The war had focused her, almost led her to believe that things would stabilise a little afterwards, but the amount of issues that had spawned from the severed neck of the Church’s ouroboros proved it to be more akin to a hydra.

At least she hadn’t had to endure this alone. Petra’s issues surrounded Brigid’s independence, which Edelgard had been all too willing to grant, and, despite her keenness to deepen ties with Fódlan as a partner of equal strength, their mutual respect made Petra willing to defer discussions on the more complex elements of what that implied until after Arundel was defeated.

Ferdinand had been a great help, as well; where she was busy deliberating on the greater scope of where she wanted to take her reforms and how she wanted to reintegrate the Kingdom and Alliance dukedoms into the Empire, he was there to challenge her on the consequences of what those reforms implied with an attention to detail she could only wish to emulate.

Naturally, there was Hubert and Byleth. They had taken it upon themselves to spearhead the fight against Arundel’s ilk, and she could think of none others more suited, nor any others she could trust as much. Though Lysithea had chosen to remain in Enbarr for the time being, respecting Edelgard’s desire to help Hanneman and Linhardt’s studies on the impact of dual Crests, she was ever-present when Edelgard received updates on how their investigation was proceeding.

Where matters of faith and the wellbeing of the common people were concerned, she had turned to Mercedes and Manuela for guidance; where her policies lacked heart, Bernadetta was there to provide it; where the nature of Crests rose its ugly head, she had relied on Linhardt and Hanneman to elucidate; where the intricacies of Alliance politics baffled her, Lorenz and Marianne had unfailingly represented them; and, where the various emptied houses of the Kingdom dallied around enfeoffment, Ashe and Ingrid gave them their final push.

As for Dorothea… Well, she’d resigned her generalship at the first chance she’d gotten, announcing it at the short celebratory feast they’d held in Enbarr following Rhea’s defeat. Within a week, she’d left to contribute to the relief effort across Fódlan, and she’d been so occupied that Edelgard hadn’t had a chance to see her since, although words of her deeds had reached her ears regardless.

It wasn’t unexpected, given how the guilt of the war had haunted her, and yet…

Edelgard sighed as she traced the lettering on Dorothea’s petition, sipping slowly at her bergamot, a sleeping gown wrapped loosely around her shoulders to ward off the nighttime chill. Looking back out of the window, she watched the torches flicker out, one by one, and waited until the loud chiming of the clock tower signalled the start of the working day.

*-*

It was dark, too, when Edelgard left the palace, although the sun had begun to escape from wherever winter kept it hoarded, setting the clouds aflame and burning slowly into the nooks and crannies of Enbarr’s streets. The stores and stalls had generated some small amount of bustle in the time it’d taken for her to reach the main square, and flocks of birds were sprouting opportunistically around the fences which stood on the canals’ banks, undeterred by the mounting shouts of the merchants’ hawking.

For a mercy, embarrassing as it was, her garb as Emperor was striking enough that the growing crowds kept a convenient berth, giving her ample room to keep her pace quick. She was also spared the temptation of purchasing some trite trinket as a last-minute welcoming present; as much as she’d like to have something to hand, contributing to Dorothea’s mountains of gifts from her various suitors wasn’t quite the tone she wanted to set for their first meeting in months.

It wasn’t long, then, before she was faced with the current home of the Mittelfrank opera house, which turned out to be an abandoned church of Seiros. Manuela had offered the address when she delivered the petition, along with an explanation for the change: apparently, the old building hadn’t born the five years of neglect well, and, though the petition itself made no mention of it, Manuela would nevertheless know a “great many” people who would appreciate a refurbishing effort.

Deep down, Edelgard agreed. Morale had taken as serious hit since Arianrhod, and the satisfaction of reclaiming the former Faerghus and Alliance territories did very little to alleviate the suffering of families whose husbands, wives, children, parents, aunts and uncles, and dear friends had been lost in the conquest.

However, Adrestians had always taken pride in their long history, and the beauty of opera was something Edelgard herself found almost therapeutic: the fiction of poetic justice, of romantic purpose, combined with the powerful emotional resonance of the singers’ sonorous voices to reach directly into her restless spirit and settle something fundamental.

Perhaps she should fund a freely-accessible arts project, independent of Dorothea’s petition, to give something to the people beyond the mere necessities of life, something that could help illustrate that there’s worth left in sustaining that life yet. Manuela shared her love of opera and would no doubt agree, but she would have to consult with Bernadetta and Mercedes beforehand to ensure her finger had identified an appropriate pulse.

Ah, but the petition. The petition. Dorothea. Dorothea who was likely behind this wearied oaken door, no doubt anticipating Edelgard’s response. Dorothea whom she hadn’t seen in what felt like an eternity, and who’d asked Manuela to deliver such a formal request rather than deliver it herself.

Aware of how long she’d spent deliberating in front of this church, and thankful that there wasn’t much traffic along this road to witness it, Edelgard lifted up her hand to rap her knuckles on the door, and waited.

*-*

Her worries of tense civility, born from the formality of the petition, were baseless, as it turned out; Dorothea met her at the door, carrying a smile that seemed as tired as Edelgard felt and looking much the same as she had that night she left, albeit a little freer.

“Edie,” Dorothea said, stepping aside and holding open the door in invitation. Her voice had a slight echo as it reverberated off the stripped stone walls. “Please, come in – I just finished brewing some tea for the morning, and I happen to have brewed extra.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Edelgard stepped over the threshold, glancing quickly around. The disrepair was noticeable, even more so as they progressed further in; it was clear that the church had been abandoned fairly early into her ascent to the throne, and, while Dorothea had done much to repurpose the area, some of the accommodations—the rotting pews pushed aside, the moth-bitten banners piled on top, a worn carpet flung haphazardly across the length of the room—were done with obvious haste.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Dorothea said, the echo amplified by the church’s natural acoustics. “I only arrived back last week, and Ferdie mentioned that this was one of the only buildings available on short notice. If it bothers you, we can drink in my bedroom; I keep that a lot cleaner, and it’d save me moving the tea.”

“Please. I’d appreciate the intimacy.”

“That’s awfully forward of you.” Dorothea laughed, and, while Edelgard was embarrassed upon realising why, she preened to hear the sound regardless. “I get it, though. I bet it’s difficult to get any alone time now that you’re managing your big overhaul of Fódlanese society, right?”

“Almost impossible,” said Edelgard, unwilling to say more until their privacy was more assured. She followed Dorothea’s lead through the main building into what must’ve once been the church’s cloister. From there, it was a short trip to the old offices, repurposed into bedrooms whose windows overlooked a small courtyard of overgrown grass encircling an yellowing fountain statue. “I considered sending Manuela back with my answer to your petition, but I haven’t heard from you since you left, and… To be frank, I suppose I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

“My, my. What would people say, to know that the Emperor was lured to this dingy little ruin, enticed away from her duties by the siren song of the Mittelfrank?” Dorothea wrenched open one of the nearby doors, the wood groaning as it scraped across the stone. Edelgard moved quickly past, Dorothea allowing the door to slam shut behind them both with a gratingly loud thud.

“Your voice is lovely enough that anyone who heard it would understand the temptation to follow you, I’m sure. Even to this dingy little ruin.”

“Oh, Edie, behave. It’s too early for you to wield that silver tongue of yours.” Dorothea said, the sincerity of her reprimand belied by a pleased giggle. “Besides, I’m being unfair. It’s not all bad here: the rooms themselves are nice, there’s plenty of space, and the building is surprisingly stable.”

Edelgard glanced around, noting the sparse furniture and austere bedding, and decided not to contradict her. It was true that the view outside to the cloister was nice, the location comfortably secluded, and the windows were filled in with glass to aid insulation.

The previous inhabitants had left the essentials, as well, all of which had survived most rot: a bed, two chairs, a desk, and a writing table. Steam lifting from a nearby pot of tea carried with it an ingratiating smell of apple that hovered distantly behind the senses, adding a touch of homeliness.

“It’s certainly quaint,” she said, at last. “Are you sure you’re alright here? You can always stay in the palace, if you’d like. I’d be honoured to host you.”

“I couldn’t ask that. I’ve slept in far worse conditions back before I joined the Mittelfrank, anyway.” Dorothea pulled out one of the chairs, gesturing towards it. “Now, take a seat, I’ll pour you some tea, and you can tell me what exactly you’ve been turning that wicked mind of yours to while I’ve been gone.”

*-*

It was far from the silence that Edelgard feared, in fact, and conversation flowed as freely as the tea – a two-apple blend, not her typical choice, yet so compelled by Dorothea’s company was she that she forgot her tastes and sipped freely.

They’d begun with a short recap. Dorothea had taken a break from fighting, retiring to a small village near Arianrhod with Manuela, and she applied what little healing magic she’d learnt in service to rehabilitating the wounded who’d begun spilling out of the fortress city itself. After a while, she’d begun to see patients on her own, helping them adjust to lost limbs, senses, or movement, and even to compose letters to home, wherever that might be.

Hearing of Arianrhod, Edelgard sat back, setting her cup down on the bare wood, and sighed. “I don’t regret the decision to remove Cornelia – it was sound tactical judgement, and the knowledge gained from the aftermath was invaluable. Still, being reminded of how many people died that day, I…”

“I’m sorry, Edie,” said Dorothea, setting her own cup beside Edelgard’s. Her hand reached out before stopping abruptly in mid-air, falling back to lie on the table between them. Edelgard looked at it and wondered if it would be inappropriate to take it, if the assumption that it was meant for her wasn’t misguided on her behalf. “That was insensitive of me. What happened was too awful for anyone to predict, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to justify yourself.”

“No, it’s important to not let memory of those sacrifices fade, or to lose sight of how many lives my war has taken,” said Edelgard. She closed her eyes, hearing the pattering of rats in the darkness, the whistling breaths wilting into silence, and when she opened her eyes again, it was merely the wind and the rain beginning to fall obliviously against the outside cloister. “And I’m glad to hear of your work. Manuela kept me updated for the most part, but her letters lacked in relevant detail. I had no idea you were so involved.”

“She’s one of the few of us who hasn’t changed all too much over the past 6 years,” Dorothea said. She retracted her hand to rest it in her lap. Edelgard watched it go. “Then again, she hasn’t changed much from when I knew her at the Mittelfrank, either. The stability is reassuring, in its own way, like a pillar from my childhood.”

“It sounds like you benefitted a lot from the time away.”

“I think so. It’s—hard, I guess, to fall asleep, to wake up, to look to the future, especially when you know how many people won’t get that chance anymore.” Dorothea smiled. “I remember talking with Ingrid about her hopes for becoming a knight of Faerghus under Dimitri’s leadership, laughing about all the silly and pompous nobles her father would try and pair her off with, and now a lot of those same nobles are dead, and the knighthood dismantled. I can barely face her.”

“Ingrid made her choice. The guilt of it isn’t yours to bear. Neither are the consequences.”

“I know, and she’s said she doesn’t hold any grudges, but,” and here Dorothea turned to look out at the cloister, her eyes fixed on the statue. Edelgard hadn’t spared it much thought when she looked at it first, but it was a statue of an eagle in flight, one wing broken and lying obscured in the grass. Small trickles of rainwater dribbled from a hole in its beak. “Maybe I don’t know. Maybe I am just feeling guilty. I’m sorry, you didn’t come here to listen to me whine.”

“I came here to spend time with you, Dorothea,” said Edelgard. “Else I would’ve sent my reply by proxy. In any case, your grievances are hardly so insignificant to be whining; empathy like yours is a rare thing, and you should never apologise for it.”

“Dreary weather, and I somehow make drearier conversation,” said Dorothea, her voice stretched. Outside, from deep within Enbarr, the clock tower chimed out the hour. “How about I pour another cup of tea for us while you spill your secrets and your worries out in payback.”

“My worries?” There were too many to count, Edelgard thought, and not many safe to discuss. The pestilence that was Arundel hardly warranted ruining the morning. Not wanting to leave Dorothea alone in her melancholy, she decided on a half-truth. “I suppose they’re rather predictable. Caspar and Linhardt have told me they intend to rescind their noble titles, and trying to find replacements for their fathers has proven a difficult challenge.”

Dorothea laughed. “Less has changed than I thought, then. What’re they planning on doing instead?”

“Linhardt has joined Hanneman for his studies on Crests—I have them both working on a personal project at the moment—and Caspar has decided to become a roving mercenary do-gooder.” Edelgard massaged her temples. “I can’t fault them, having placed so much emphasis on choice over lineage, but I was hoping Linhardt in particular would take over for the current Count Hevring.”

“That does sound like them, though. It’s best to let them get on with it – it wouldn’t do to have Lin napping away at cabinet meetings.” Dorothea leaned forward, resting her folded arms on the surface of the table. She’d tied her hair up in a low ponytail replete with thin braids, and it spilled over her shoulder to pool across her breast. “How about our dear professor? And, of course, Hubie.” 

“I haven’t seen you style your hair like that before.” Edelgard blurted out, overtaken by the sight. She could feel herself reddening, unused to delivering compliments out of sincerity rather than diplomatic necessity, and the words tumbled out of her ungracefully. “It—It suits you.”

“Style my—? Oh!” Dorothea blinked. “Thank you.” She stroked at the braids, threading her delicate fingers through the ends. “Petra has been teaching me. Although, I’m nowhere near as good as her. I’m embarrassed to say so, but I slept in the ones she did yesterday.”

“I see,” said Edelgard, and she did see. Petra had indeed mentioned visiting someone during their late night briefing, some time towards the end. Was she really so tired, that she’d let that part of the conversation slip her mind? Or, in the midst of discussing an uprising in Faerghus, had she dismissed it as irrelevant? “Well, Byleth and Hubert have been a great help, as usual; they’re away handling some business in western Adrestia that I could entrust to nobody else.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping to see them soon. I’ll have plenty of opportunity to see them when they return, though, I’m sure.”

Edelgard nodded, tracing a pattern on the rim of her cup with her finger, the imprint staying dented in her glove. After a short silence, she spoke again: “I’m sorry if this is presumptuous, but I simply must ask. This was far too much tea for one person. Were you perhaps expecting me to visit?”

Dorothea hummed noncommittally. “I admit, I was hoping you’d deliver your answer in person, although I wouldn’t say I expected it. I know things must be hectic for you – you’ve got the weight of Fódlan’s future on your shoulders, after all, and fixing up an opera house isn’t going to be one of your big priorities.”

“Far too accurate, I’m afraid.” sighed Edelgard. “I would never begrudge the responsibility, having worked so hard to be worthy of it, but it can get… overwhelming. There are so many demands on my time, and so little time to give. My head is spinning trying to keep track of everything Thankfully, Ferdinand has been a fantastic help, as have our other former classmates.”

“If anyone can keep track of it, Edie, you can,” said Dorothea. She smiled at her, a hint of something nestling in the softness of her expression that Edelgard couldn’t place. “Nothing’s driven that home more than what I’ve seen over the past few months working in Arianrhod. The stories they have of you, I struggle to believe I was there.”

Edelgard flushed, the humidity of the rain suffusing the room with a sudden, pressured heat. “If this is a roundabout way to bring up that biographical opera of me again—”

“No, no!” Dorothea laughed. “Although… The way you keep mentioning it, you’ll make a girl think your protests are for show.”

“Not for show, I assure you. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

“I have a few ideas,” Dorothea winked, and Edelgard brought her hand up to hide her face. “Don’t worry, Edie. If I were to write an opera about you, I’d make sure to run it by you first. I just mean your ambition. All of this lofty talk of revolution, reforming Fódlan from the ground up, scrapping traditions over a thousand years old so that even a worthless orphan like me could rise up from nothing and become one of your generals, well. Coming from anyone else, I’d’ve laughed them out the door, but when you said it, you made it work. We all believed you. We didn’t even question. And here you are, doing all that, and then some.

“I might’ve given up my rank, but I believe in whatever future you have set out for everyone, and so do the soldiers I spent those months tending to. You might be dismantling the nobility, but to hear the way they talked about you, you still live in a different world to us. We’re just trying to get by, and you’re trying to create a whole new society. Despite my teasing, I wasn’t kidding when I said you belonged in an opera.”

Of all the things she was expecting Dorothea to say, that hadn’t been one of them.

Edelgard understood her role as Emperor, naturally; her purpose was to be a unifying symbol that embodied the spirit of Adrestia and its people. To those who would never know her as Edelgard, it was only right that she remain that distant ideal, and she was proud to represent the nation she loved so much.

Sitting by a woman she’d spent the most treasured year of her life studying with, however, and having bled in battle beside her for five gruelling years, hearing her say that they were in different worlds gave her none of that same pride. It left her feeling hollow, and she couldn’t help but say something.

“I appreciate your faith in me.” Edelgard began, hesitantly. “Nonetheless, I don’t like to hear you say such things. My goal has always been to break these artificial barriers between people—barriers created by antiquated presumptions about false worth attached to noble lineage—so that people are judged by their character, not by the circumstances into which they were born. This notion of being worlds apart never made sense to me, and the future I want to create, that you all believe in, has a place for both of us. And any world where you can’t stand by my side as my equal isn’t a world I have any interest in.”

“Oh, Edie,” Dorothea sighed, the words carried upon a single, meaningful breath. “I didn’t mean it like that. Honestly, more than anything else, hearing about you so much made me miss you, plain and simple. It’s selfish, but I wanted to be part of your vision again, and if I can do that by your side, all’s the better. If I can do it while singing, that’s almost perfect!”

Feeling rather foolish for misreading Dorothea’s intent, Edelgard nodded decisively, hoping the authority of the action would banish the events of the past few minutes from her memory. “You always have a place with me, for as long as you want it.”

“For as long as you’ll have me,” replied Dorothea.

*-*

**DELETED SCENE**

“some coochie ma’am” said edelgard

“oh my beloved emperor” said dorothea and ate her pussy immediately

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title song (i wasn't kidding about this): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLj3WTQZIzc


	3. Origins ~Invitation to Darkness~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i rewrote this whole completely cuz i cba waiting for the jeritza dlc………and THEN it was released because i was too busy to finish the chapter in time. and THEN i split it in half bc this chapter evolved a decent bit the two “parts” became too distinct (which means the next chapter is already 1.5k). neat!  
anywayz its legislature time baybee!!!

_Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emperor of Adrestia and Representative of Fódlan, Acting Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Regent to the Kingdom of Faerghus, addressed to the Bishop Lady Mercedes von Martritz of Garreg Mach._

Greetings, Lady Martritz. I hope this letter finds you well, and that the repairs of Garreg Mach are proceeding more smoothly than last we spoke. It is a fantastic location for an orphanage, and I am glad to see a place I have fond memories of being put to worthy use. I hope to see your ambitions bear fruit and will lend you such assistance as I am able.

I have five topics to address.

The first: You requested consent to establish a new denomination of the faith, separate from the Church of Seiros – I grant this unreservedly. Make it known that I have no qualms with worship of the Goddess, nor her adherents, so long as they too have no qualms with those who do not share their beliefs.

The second: As discussed, I am perfectly willing to lend official support to your orphanage in the form of an imperial endorsement, and I give consent for you and your delegates to travel uninhibited across Adrestia, so long as your purpose is announced to me beforehand. Anything further would be impractical at this time, as resources are stretched far beyond capacity already. However, should you wish to negotiate ration allowances with Count Bergliez and Count Hevring to accommodate the increasing number to which you grant shelter, you have my leave to do so.

It may be helpful to liaise with Count Gloucester and Margrave Edmund. I understand they have been heavily involved in orchestrating the relief effort for the former Alliance and may have trusted advice to lend you in matters of organising the creation of your orphanage and the managing of Garreg Mach’s restoration. I grant you effective dominion over Garreg Mach for this purpose.

The third: I am told the wounded at Arianrhod are beginning to return to their homes, and many of them will be passing through Garreg Mach; the remains of those fallen who requested it thus will be travelling with them to be buried wherever they desire. However, there are many who died without attachment, known only by their comrades-in-arms, and I see fit to repurpose the Mausoleum into a cenotaph upon which their names might be engraved and their sacrifices honoured. This is to be available to all those lost, no matter whence they hailed. I entrust to you the particulars.

The fourth: I wish to extend formal education to all in Fódlan, regardless of wealth, title, or affiliation. Since Garreg Mach currently houses many disenfranchised, and you intend to house many more, you will form a central pillar to successful implementation of this policy. It is still in its infancy, and thus I welcome your input on how best to make this accessible and efficient, as does Duke Aegir - its most zealous advocate.

Understand that this is essential to my aims of equalising Fódlan’s society and eradicating the infestation of Crest supremacy instigated by the Church of Seiros. Accidents of birth are no justification to stifle the greatness inherent in all humans, and it is the duty of those in power to dismantle thoroughly a system which quashes any group deemed inferior on that basis; in reality, we are all equals in potential, irrespective of circumstance, and we must ensure that provisions exist to accommodate those whose circumstances manifest as unfair impediment to their success.

The fifth: I seek your counsel in the worth of imperial patronage to those who wish to pursue the arts in whatever capacity they so desire, whether that be through opera or any other public performance, so long as they made their pursuits accessible to any with the wish to see them.

Additionally, I have authorised the Mittelfrank Opera House to tour Fódlan, and I wonder if the mood in Garreg Mach would be amenable to hosting them. Of course, given the audience, the House will waive all cost in charity. I would have you contact the House itself with details—it is currently headed by the Lady Dorothea Arnault, whom I am certain you recall from our time fighting together, as she is hardly the type one could forget.

Finally, to answer your question: Lord Gaspard confirmed that the contingent of knights accompanying the children have not returned, and I confirm that neither is Viscount Hrym involved. I suspect, with regret, that we shall see not see the children nor the knights again.

Farewell.

*-*

The trouble, Edelgard thought, with having two people whose strength of intellect was matched only by the strength of their opinions is that there was never an easy choice between them. She had been listening to Ferdinand and Petra both argue over some sightings of overlarge wild beasts in the Kleiman region for the greater part of the day, and the debate showed no signs of resolution.

“An excellent point,” said Ferdinand, his voice enthusiastically hovering on the edge of Edelgard’s consciousness. “But it is imperative that we defer to the independent lords of Faerghus on matters of their territory; we do not need to interfere in every issue supplied to us, and treating them with such respect shows that we trust them. We must begin to build bridges, and that starts by respecting their authority over their lands.”

“We have already conquered Faerghus,” Petra insisted. “It is not mattering if we are deferring, or if we are treating them with respect – they will not be trusting us. Before the Dagdan war, Brigid had some authority over its lands and could be governing itself. Even so, it did not feel respected. We were knowing our position with Adrestia. Faerghus will be knowing theirs, too.”

“Of course – I concede that my approach is not universal. However, Fódlan was not so long ago a single country, and thus it has not been conquered, but reunited!” There was a harsh scrape as Ferdinand leant forward, the chair’s legs pushing against the wood as he did. “We have our own allies amongst the Faerghian nobles who can vouch for our sincerity – Lord Gaspard and Count Galatea. Their words will persuade where our actions cannot, as they have done already.”

Edelgard closed her eyes, twirling her quill between her fingers and tapping the feather end on the sealed letter to Mercedes that lay on her desk. Something had struck her, then, in what Ferdinand said, and if she could only pin it down…

“You are meaning the Faerghian nobles that we have not killed. It is a small number.”

“I—” Sitting back, Ferdinand blinked. “Yes. I suppose that… is quite an effective argument. But I hardly imagine they would ignore the suffering of their own people merely to spite us.” He placed his fingertips to his brow and shook his head. “Although… I fear the possibility seems far greater now that you have voiced it.”

“Wait,” Edelgard said, abruptly cutting off Ferdinand’s sentence. “We’re sure these beasts are in Kleiman territory?”

Petra nodded. Her full attention had been turned now to Edelgard. "You are thinking these beasts may be related to the kidnappings, yes?”

“I am.” Edelgard confirmed. She could see the children as if they were before her, cowering close in ignorant hope that someone would notice their absence, would know where to find them, and the emptiness that slowly swallowed it all. “And if they are…”

“If they are, respect and trust will be small worries. If we are leaving them to Faerghus, a disaster will be cooking very soon.”

“Ah, we cannot know that for certain.” Ferdinand interjected. “Viscount Kleiman may be willing to work with Lord Gaspard for now, but we may have pushed our good will too far already, with the surrendering of his dominion over Duscur. He will be chafing to see its self-determination mirror his own.”

“I could hardly allow its lands to remain with the man who treated its people so repulsively.” Edelgard frowned. “Especially knowing Arundel’s role in it. I have a duty to rectify such cruel wrongs as I can, however inconvenient that rectification might prove. We’ve already delayed reparations, and our promise to facilitate any looking to return to Duscur has been neglected enough.”

“And I do not disagree with you – far from it! I merely wish to point out that we are in a precarious position. Should Viscount Kleiman turn against us, it will destabilise Faerghus more than we could alleviate, and take resources away that we could use to fight Arundel directly. And, if Arundel were to install his own ruler upon Viscount Kleiman’s deposition, the consequences will be dire, and he would not be as beholden to your authority on matters of Duscan independence. The current Viscount does, at least, make small efforts to comply with his responsibilities.”

At this, Petra spoke up: “I am thinking my plan makes the most sense now. I am knowing Shamir, and Byleth is knowing Leonie. They have done many scouting missions for us during the war, and they are practical people. If we explain, and if we are paying, they will be accepting of our request. I could be going with them. We will not be seen, and we are familiar with the beasts, and you can be trusting us more than anyone else.”

Edelgard sighed and brought her hand up to massage some tension out of her aching forehead. A pressure had been building behind her eyes since the morning, and the letter felt like it was radiating a magnetic energy which drew all thoughts towards its contents.

“Very well,” she said, finally. “I’ll authorise it. Petra, please reach out to Shamir; I’ll write to Byleth and request they reach out to Leonie. If you do join them, please, be careful. You are my treasured friend, and neither I nor Brigid would like to lose you.”

“You need not be worrying,” Petra said, laughing as she stood to leave. “These types of missions are my favourite. I am never feeling more at home than when I hunt!”

“In light of your concerns, I think this is sensible as well, although I echo some of Edelgard’s worries.” Ferdinand said, standing to follow her. “We have lost many already, and Edelgard speaks true of your friendship; we have all valued it highly, and I would like to go on valuing it for many years to come.”

“You are both fretting! But your concern honours me. Truthfully, I understand it. I am also fretting over you, Edelgard, and your war with your uncle. It is the way with friends.” Then, as she reached the door, her hand hovered on the door handle, and she turned to deliver to Edelgard a parting word, in a firmer, quieter voice: “I am knowing that you have not told us everything that troubles you, and I will not ask for what you do not share. I am knowing enough of your uncle’s power to be wary, and I have studied his beasts during the war, and so I will be safe. I am knowing my limits. I cannot be taking risks anymore; I must be living for all Brigid, now.

“You are knowing this, but you will respect my choice to fight, because I am making it with the knowing of the risks, and because you need my strength, even as you fret. But there are those who may be taking risks without knowing of your uncle and his dangers. Others who have taken too many risks already. I am caring for you greatly, Edelgard, but I am caring for others, as well. If you care for someone, you will talk to them as you talked to me, with honesty about your uncle, and what was done to Arianrhod. You will be giving them their choice, as you gave me mine.”

Edelgard was silent. She nudged Mercedes’ letter with her little finger, pulling it towards herself. She thought again of the missing children, and of the shadowy Arundel’s hand enclosing around them.

“I must be going to find Shamir.” Petra said, after a short while. “I will be fighting with you, Edelgard. For as long as my responsibilities will let me.”

With that, Petra left, and Edelgard turned to Ferdinand. He cleared his throat.

“I shall not intrude in topics where I am not welcome,” he said, and his tone felt gentle where Petra’s was hard. “I will say this: do not jump to conclusions. Many bandits have been known to kidnap children to use as impressionable future recruits.”

“And murder a trained regiment of knights?”

“You know as well as I how effective a weapon surprise can be. It is, perhaps, one of the greatest equalisers of a battlefield. With news of Mercedes’ orphanage spreading, as well, many groups will see their pool of recruits drying up, and seek desperate measures to ensure their survival. Recall how few had qualms about attacking the Knights of Seiros, even at the height of their power. I cannot speak for Petra, of course, but in this, I ask you to not seek to carry blame where none exists.”

“…Thank you, Ferdinand.”

He inclined his head before leaving himself, shutting the door with a respectfully muted thud and leaving Edelgard alone. There, with the creeping silence slowly submerging the room broken only by a cool dirge sighing through the gaps in a shuttered window, she closed her eyes once more.

She dwelled on Petra’s words, and her correspondence with Mercedes, and the unfortunate news that Ashe had confirmed to her. Despite her limited knowledge on what exactly was Jeritza’s—Emile’s, as Mercedes now insisted upon calling him—involvement in Flayn’s and Monica’s kidnapping, it seemed Mercedes held independent suspicions of her own, though not aware of how to express them. She knew there was a rancid thread unspooling the stability of Fódlan’s new peace, and she knew vaguely whence it ran. Allowing those suspicions unchecked was a danger in and of itself.

Perhaps Petra was right. Ignorance of Arundel’s crimes wouldn’t stop him from turning his wicked gaze upon those she held dear. After all, she herself knew little of the man when she was taken with him to Faerghus, and even less when she returned to Adrestia. There was no code of honour to which his ilk held themselves; the ravaged ruins of Arianrhod still smouldered in her memory where they’d been struck by his lightning. Ignorance was weakness.

But, should she tell too much to too many, she could lose the element of surprise. There was indeed nothing linking the disappearances to Arundel, and even less linking him to the beasts. Though he had grown bolder after she’d ascended to the throne, and bolder still after Arianrhod, he was careful enough to not leave so obvious a trace. Any carelessness on his part was hard-earned, making it easier to track him, and easier for Hubert and Byleth to avoid his scrutiny.

Besides, Ferdinand was also right, at least on the habits of bandits. They’d seen off enough during her time at the Academy to be familiar with how they worked, and the instability following a war would drive civilians to banditry as much as it would have driven bandits to further opportunistic raiding. If she were to act on an assumption and push Arundel back to secrecy, it could undo much of the previous months.

Petra spoke of risk, and Ferdinand spoke of caution, and the decision between them was left with Edelgard, who, with every early waking since she realised the power of her two Crests, had spoken always of sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s the chapter song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKu4GQugsJ0
> 
> note: im not dead i just have a job


End file.
